


Sugar

by softlybarnes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 40s!Bucky, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Fluff, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Recovering, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut, bucky barnes smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-09-16 03:32:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16946181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlybarnes/pseuds/softlybarnes
Summary: By a miracle of fate, Bucky Barnes does not fall off of the train. He does not spend decades as a brainwashed assassin. Instead, he goes home to Brooklyn to spend his life with a girl he adores, a snarky nurse that he met during the war.Told through a series of non-chronological one-shots.





	1. Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my favorite thing ever. I loved writing it and I so want to write more. I hope you guys like it too, please let me know what you think! This is mostly going to be about Bucky learning to cope with civilian life after the war, and his PTSD. Some chapters will be more 'serious' than others.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky survives the war and comes home just a little bit changed. His girl loves him anyways, and she knows exactly how to show it.

“Dahlin',” Bucky whispers in her ear as they sway together in the smoky dance hall, lazy jazz music washing over them from the band in the corner. “Let’s go home.”

She presses a kiss to his jaw, a smile on her lips.

James hands stay appropriately high on her hips, just as he promised her. But she knows he’s dying to let them slip lower and rove over the curve of her ass. “I’m not done dancin’ yet, and you promised me a nice night out.”

“That I did,” he sighs. “Promised ya.”

She leans close, mouth against his ear, maybe a little too close to be appropriate. “You’ve been so good for me tonight.”

He shivers against her a little before pulling away as the song playing ends with a flourish. There’s a blush high on his cheekbones. Y/N takes his hand, an innocent smile on her face. “You’re a handsome devil, Bucky Barnes.”

His smile is wide and charming as he allows her to pull him back across the hall. “I’ll buy you a drink, dahlin,” he says, tightening his fingers against hers. “If you aren’t quite ready ta go home yet.”

“What’ll I do with you, Barnes?” She asks, settling herself on a barstool, her eyes flicking over him, subtly appreciative. He’s different, from the first time she met him, in some pretty, no name town in Europe. He was shocked to find a Brooklyn girl so far from home.

Now, after the war, back home in his native New York, he’s changed. His eyes are darker and his smile is a little dim. He hasn’t told her everything that’s happened to him, all he’s seen and done.

Soon he’ll start working with Steve and Peggy again.

She’s worried about what will come of him.

She crosses her ankles and takes a small sip of her drink, watching him over the rim of her glass. Her eyes trace over the thick ropes of cordoned muscle straining against the tanned skin of his forearms as he leans against the bar, chatting with the bartender who is polishing a shiny glass. She watches his pink lips move, his voice as smooth as water over a stone.

He had left a few buttons undone at his throat and she can see a few gently curling chest hairs along with pink scattered scars. James has scars everywhere, all over, visible and not.

She longs to reach out to him, tip his chin up and draw him close with one arm around his back.

“Buck,” she says softly, wanting more than anything to peel him out of his clothes. “I changed my mind. I’m ready to go home when you are.”

Bucky turns to meet her eyes, failing to hide a smirk. He slides closer to her, picking up her hand from the counter to press a kiss to her palm. “That so, sugar.”

“Sure is, Barnes.”

He presses another kiss to her knuckles and shakes his head against her hand. “You’re killin’ me, love.” The bartender moves away down the bar, leaving them alone at one end. Bucky leans into her as she puts down her glass to gaze at him with dark eyes, “What’d ya plan ta do with me?”

“You’ll see,” she answers as she stands, coming up chest to chest with him as she smiles sweetly. “Walk me home?”

He nods and offers his arm to her, charming in a way that no longer comes easily to him. She puts her hand in the crook of his arm, nodding at people that they recognize silently, smiling when the cool night air hit their skin.

They begin their silent trek toward Bucky’s apartment. He circles his arm around her waist when they take a deserted side street, his fingers brushing lower on her hip. “You were being so good, darlin’,” she says. “Self-control finally ran out?”

“Mhm,” he murmurs. “It’s been gone for a while.” His hand falls further before he comes to an abrupt stop and pulls her close. His lips find hers, hot and urgent. She softens in his arms, sighing into his mouth. A breathy laugh leaves her lips when he pushes her into the brick wall of the alleyway.

She clicks her tongue at him when she feels his hard cock straining against her thigh. “This is no way to walk a lady home,” she sasses him, flattening one hand against his chest to push him back a step. “I asked for a nice night didn’t I?”

“Night’s just beginning,” he says. He’s about to kiss her again when Y/N rubs her hand against him through his trousers. He jerks against her, letting out a choked moan. “Dahlin’, please, I’ve behaved all evening for you. Lemme kiss you at least.”

Y/N smiles and leans forward, reaching up with her other hand to trace his bottom lip. “Sure, baby.” She smiles widely as pink dusts his cheeks again.

He nuzzles his cheek into her hand, before Y/N decides to give him what he wants, pressing her mouth softly against his. “You’re just the sweetest thing, James.”

“Tell me what you want me to do, honey. I’m fuckin’ desperate for ya, baby.”

She puts both her hands on either side of his face, forces him to look her in the eyes and says, “I want you to hold my hand and walk me home like the gentleman you are, Bucky.”

He grins and nods and holds out his arm again after stepping back from her, a proper gentleman.

 

~

 

Y/N thinks about the first time she met Bucky, while they walk home. She listens to him chat about anything and everything as they walk, a soldier glad to be home and back where he belonged.

Her hand tightens on his as she thinks back on it.

She thinks on how charming he had been, even with a bullet hole in his shoulder and separated from his squad. He had teased her and flirted with her and found her in the bar the soldiers frequented afterwards. They had been two peas in a pod while he healed and waited to receive orders. They talked about everything and nothing and anything in between, he had kissed her hard and passionate and taken her breath away.

And then he had gone away and she hadn’t been sure if he survived the war when she made it back to New York.

She knew he was a Brooklynite like herself and hoped that she might see him around, though she thought the chances were slim.

Little did she know he had been a part of the Howling Commandos, who’s renown was still spreading and growing in military circles when she arrived home. She also didn’t know he had been dying to find her, searching high and low and hoping she wasn’t dead.

He was shell-shocked and hurt and just a little bit broken but he had found her suddenly while she was stopping by the corner store on the way home from a shift at the hospital.

Bucky had changed. Scarred, inside and out. He had put on weight, muscle. There were circles under his eyes and his smiles wasn’t nearly as easy as they had once been, even after having been shot.

She looks at him now, thinking about how he’s changed again and how she doesn’t want him to begin working with Steve.

She hadn’t minded being there to pick up the pieces and help him out. She remembers worrying, every time she saw a dead soldier, that it would be him.

It never was.

“You alright, Y/N?” Bucky asks as they near his apartment building.

She smiles. “I’m gonna be,” she says.

His eyes stay on her, and she knows she’s being watched. His voice is soft and his hand tightens on hers, “What are you thinkin’ about, Y/N?”

Y/N looks back at him and almost tells him, changes her mind at the last second. “I’m thinkin’ about how handsome you look. Sweet as sugar.” It makes a smile twitch on his lips, pride swimming in his pretty blue irises. “I’m wondering at how I got so lucky.”

Bucky’s cheeks puff as he blows out a long breath, “I wonder that every minute. Seems like I shouldn’t have been so lucky.” She knows he isn’t talking about her anymore, that the war is looming in his mind again.

The war loomed in everyone’s minds, even now that it was over. Women didn’t recognize their men anymore, families had to deal with the fact that dad was just _different_.

She remembers dabbing a wound on his cheek as he smiled, and asking, “ _How’d they let a pretty thing like you fight in a war?”_

Y/N had never seen someone grin so wide

“But I was lucky. Look at me?” He grins and pulls away from her, jogging ahead a few steps to stop in front of her and do a spin, all boyish charm in the deserted Brooklyn alleyway. “I’m here. I survived. My best friend survived. I got my best girl here with me. Steve and Peggy got a kid on the way. My ma and my sisters are alright. It’s more than I should have. It’s more than most guys got to come home to.”

She nods, walking forward to cup his cheek. There’s flushed color in his cheeks from their night of dancing and her teasing. She can see his arousal in his eyes and in the slight bulge in his trousers. She wants to take him home and touch him. Bucky Barnes is so pretty, even scarred up and soul broken and different, that she could cry. She’s glad for his charm and his wit and his love of her.

“You certainly are lucky,” she says. “More lucky than any of us know, I think. Now quit dancin’ around in the street and let me show you just how _lucky_ you can be.”

 

~

 

“Dahlin,” James sighs, the pet name like a little moan on his breath. “I’m dyin’.”

She nods, grinning like a cat that’s cornered a mouse. And the mouse is more than happy to be captured.

He starts to move his hands, but Y/N tsks at him before dragging her nails down the center of his chest. “Did I say to move, sugar?” Bucky keeps his hands above his head at her simple question, one hand clenching around the wrist of the other. The thick muscle in his arms ripple with tension.

He shakes his head lazily, abdominal muscles clenching as she traces her fingers low again. She’s left his hard, leaking cock untouched. She sits back on his thighs, still fully clothed. Her skirt is pushed up around her hips, Bucky’s eyes flashing down to her suspenders clipped to the tops of her stockings every so often. Mostly, though, he keeps his baby blues focused on her.

The scars on his left arm remind her of how close he had been to death, that he almost plunged into an icy ravine, if it hadn’t been for Steve’s saving hand. Still, his left arm ended up catching on the metal train car, ripping through cotton and wool deep into his flesh. His scars are pretty, in a morbid way. And she finds herself leaning forward to trace the bulleted scar on his shoulder with her tongue.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he mutters, hips bucking, seeking some friction. “Sweet thing,” he says, breathless, “I’m beggin’ ya to touch me.”

“But I am,” she answers immediately. “Can’t you feel my lips?” Y/N whispers, her mouth brushing over his chest as she speaks.

Bucky groans, “That’s not what I mean, Y/N, and you know it.”

In reprimand she digs her teeth into his peck before soothing over her bite with her tongue. He gasps, cock twitching against his stomach, as her mouth closes over one nipple and sucks. “Fuck,” he moans, voice tipping upwards in volume.

She pulls back and brushes her hands over his arms, shushing him. “Quiet now, darlin’,” she murmurs. “Don’t want the neighbors to hear do we? We ain’t married so this isn’t moral behavior is it?”

“I’ve seen immoral behavior,” he pants. “And trust me, doll, this ain’t it.”

“So what do you want me to do then? Put your cock in my mouth?”

“Jesus! The mouth on you-,”

“Well?” She interrupts. “You want it? Or you want me to draw this out and make it good for you?”

They hadn’t made it to the bed. They hadn’t even made it to the couch. Passion and want had made them lock the front door and sink down onto the hardwood floor or Bucky small apartment.

Neither of them really mind. They’d done it in worse places after all.

Since they’ve been stateside too, they’ve learned to take their time where before they’d only had time for quickies. He’d made her see stars in that two weeks they’d been together in Europe. And now that they’d learned in great detail what the other liked, they took all the time they wanted, because they could.

“Do whatever you want,” he breathes now, pupils blown wide and dark.

She leans over him, her hands clasping his, slotting her fingers between his as she kisses him deeply and slowly, her tongue pressing against his. “You’re so good for me,” she murmurs. “So good.” She smiles against his mouth before sitting back. She rakes her hands through his soft chocolate hair and he practically purrs before she asks him for one of his hands.

He offers her his right hand, which she takes and kisses before slipping it under her skirt. A shaky laugh passes his lips as he strokes her through her panties. “You’re wet.”

“Mhm,” she hums, still ignoring his straining cock. “I’m feelin’ a bit constrained,” she says, making Bucky’s eyes flash up to hers. His fingers still, stroking the sensitive inside of her thighs instead, which he knows drives her absolutely wild.

“Yeah, dahlin’?”

She jerks when his fingers press inside her underwear, his hand against her cunt. “Yeah,” she murmurs, reaching up to her blouse, slowly undoing the buttons. “It’s hot in here. Maybe I should open a window and see how good you really are at staying quiet.”

“This whole neighborhood would know about our immoralities, Y/N. I’d have to fuck you in the window just so everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Filthy fucking dog,” she accuses, tossing away her blouse. Her bra follows right after and she has the great pleasure of seeing Bucky Barnes look at her bare like it’s the first time all over again. She squeezes her breasts before rolling her nipples and arching her back.

James tongue darts out to wet dry lips before he’s asking quietly to please be allowed to touch her. “Go ahead, honey,” she whispers to him, moaning when his big hands travel the length of her torso so find her breasts. He pinches her nipples hard, drawing a surprised but pleasured moan from her lips.

She knocks his hands away, leaning over him to whisper in his ear and tug at his hair, asking him if he likes the way she feels as she rolls her covered pussy against his bare sensitive cock. “God, yes, Y/N,” he moans, breathless.

It’s frustrating him, too, she knows. He wants to feel her naked against him. “Lemme hear you, Buck,” she whispers lowly in his ear. “If you want somethin’ you gotta ask for it, baby.”

“Please,” he says, his cock twitching against her pussy. “Please let me feel you, Y/N-,”

“Think I should?” She asks, leaning back to stroke his pink cheek. He nods with hooded eyes, gaze traveling over her with want.

“I’ve been good,” he says, quiet and needy.

She nods and nuzzles at his chest, “You have.” Y/N slips back, situating herself between his legs. “You’ve been so good.” Her fingers trace slowly along the insides of his thighs. She presses her cheek there and looks up at him. “Sugar.”

“Honey,” he coos back, voice creaky with need. She presses a kiss to his thigh, to his hip, to the space just below his belly button. She kisses the center of his chest and then the divot in his chin before she kisses his sinful mouth. Y/N parts her lips and lets his gently probing tongue slip into her mouth. “Let me give it to ya first, let me taste you.”

She hums, nudging his nose with hers. “Tempting,” she says. “Why?”

“Ya taste so g’damn good, sweetheart. I’m aching for ya.”

She thinks about it, thinks about his skilled tongue slipping between her wet folds. She remembers the way he had ducked beneath her skirt in an quiet country barn outside that lonely town, how hot his tongue had been against her as he held her up with one strong arm, the shoulder without the bullet hole.

It’s too good to turn down.

“Only,” she sits back, “if I get to watch you.”

“Fine,” he says, urgent.

She stands and reaches behind her to unzip her skirt, toeing out of her sling back pumps. James is grinning as he watches her, hand already fisted around his length just as she’d asked. “What happened to morality, Y/N?”

“Tellin’ me you wanna taste but not look?”

“Oh I definitely wanna look.” He bites his lip, eyes traveling over her stocking clad legs, her garter belt and suspenders. She watches the muscles in his lower belly clench, his hand pause on the tip of his cock.

She undresses slowly, until she’s finally nude before him, and watches his eyes darken, “Then I’d say it’s a good thing you invested in some blinds, Barnes.”

Quicker than she can follow, he sits up and wraps his arm around her, pulling her down into a heated kiss, knees slipping to either side of his hips. He kisses her like she’s made of air, and he’s drowning on a wave.

Bucky kisses her so long and hard that it gets hard to breathe. His hands cradle her back, pressing her to him gently, longingly.

It reminds her again of how he’s changed. That something happened to him that changed him, something he won’t share with her. He’s strong and fast beyond what he should be sometimes, not that she minds. Some days, he can beat the super soldier Steve Rogers, in any contest. He tells her to chalk it up to his good fortune.

“Gonna let me breathe, Buck?” She sasses, pushing at his chest until he lies flat on his back.

“Only if you promise not ta let me breathe,” he says, reaching for her hips.

She stops him with one hand, kissing his fingers before she reminds him of his promise. Bucky whines low in his throat but does as she says, curling his fingers around himself and stroking his cock slowly. Y/N loves to watch him, watch the heat build in his cheeks, sweat form on his temples, hips bucking. His breath will catch and scratch in his throat as he moans and his eyes flutter closed.

It’s simply beautiful and she tells him so, just to watch the haze clear for a moment and pride to circle his head.

Bucky’s beautiful, but he forgets it most days.

She watches him now, watches him twitch and moan and fight off the urge to let himself come. She strokes his arms and his chest and his hips and thighs, before she finally takes mercy on him and tells him to stop. She swallows his breathless little pants before she allows him to pull her right where he wants her. She straddles his face carefully, only for him to push her closer.

All the time she’s murmuring his praises. “You’re so good for me aren’t you, sugar?” Her fingers go to his hair as his tongue swipes against her cunt. Bucky moans when he tastes her.

Large hands stroke up her thighs, to her hips and ass, where he cradles her against him, pushes her closer to his mouth. There’s nothing shy about the way he eats her out. The sounds alone are obscene.

She clasps one hand over her own mouth as her other tightens on his hair. She shakes and stares at his ceiling through the smoky haze of the living room.

For Bucky’s part, he only moans against her, not daring to stop until she comes.

When she comes, she comes so hard her hearing veers out and her vision goes black with lust and pleasure.

“Bucky,” she says, legs shaking as she sits back on his chest. He doesn’t seem to mind her weight against him and only pats her thigh, licking his lips, happy as clam.

“When you told me I’d get a reward I never thought it’d be somethin’ as good as that,” he says, turning his head to press a kiss to her ankle.

“More to come,” she says, “Gimme a minute, Jesus criminy.”

He laughs, but waits, patting her hip soothingly.

Slowly, she moves back between his thighs, shushing him gently when he starts to speak. “Told ya I’d put it in my mouth didn’t I?”

“Fuckin’ filthy, doll,” he says, his head hitting the floorboards with a dull thud. “Christ, I’m worn out and ya haven’t even done anything ta me.”

“You found a magic woman, Barnes.”

“Sure as hell did,” he says to the ceiling. “Magic Brooklynite in the middle of fuckin’ France.” She lets her tongue dart out to taste the collecting pre-cum at the tip of his cock.

His whole body jerks and she has to pull back and remind him of their morals and their neighbors. “Can’t let Miss. Listen-Through-The-Walls catch us out can we?”

“No, ma’am,” Bucky breathes. “We sure can’t.”

She laughs at him, still a little light headed from his attentions. Y/N lies one hand against his stomach and digs her nails into his flesh.

His hands thread through her hair, pulling it back so he can see her face as she works up a smooth rhythm. She pulls back every once in a while to gauge his reaction to her and swirl her tongue around the tip or his cock.

“You like it, sugar?”

An incoherent moan is the only response she gets. Y/N cups his balls gently and moves so she can see his eyes. “Tell me.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, “Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, who taught you all ‘a that?”

She smiles and smiles wider when he kisses her, tasting himself on her mouth. “You wanna come, James?” She purrs, stroking his cock slowly as she kisses her way down his jaw to his neck.

“Yes,” he answers, voice tight.

“Better ask me then,” she coos. “Sugar.”

Bucky’s hand travels up her thigh and over her hip. “Please, dahlin’, take mercy on me? Let me come?” He voce is only a small pant in her ear, but it makes her want to give him the whole goddamn world.

She kisses him hard before she puts her mouth back on his cock, taking him as deep as she can as she builds up a rhythm again, pleased with the wet sounds of her mouth and his deep rumbling moans.

It’s when she pulls back to curl her tongue around the head that he comes in her mouth. Bucky’s hands go to her hair and keep her in place, his whole body convulsing with pleasure. She flicks her eyes up to see his roll back, aftershocks shaking his body.

Y/N swallows everything he has to give her, when he finally releases her hair.

She curls next to him naked on the hardwood floor and allows herself to drift off. Bucky turns his head to kiss her cheek and snuffle a gentle thank you in hear ear.

 

~

 

The sun is just peaking over the horizon, and they still haven’t gone to bed. James is smoking with the window open.

They’re lying in bed and waiting for the shadows of yesterday to fade away with the morning sun.

“Before Steve showed up,” Bucky begins. “I was kinda in charge. I had to make the decisions, the guys looked to me like I knew up from down.” He’s silent for a moment but Y/N doesn’t say anything, just keeps stroking the scar on his arm, not even acknowledging that he’d spoken, afraid to spook him into silence.

He’s never spoken to her about this day before.

And not being in charge with her, suddenly makes a whole lot of sense. Even if she happened to like it.

“It was my decision to…surrender. In Italy. Officers were separated from their guys. They must have missed me because I wasn’t. They’d walk around us in these heavy boots that just echoed n’ echoed. They’d…select. And then they’d come back a few days later and pick someone else. And then one day my number came up, just like it did here and I had to kiss Becca goodbye and promise Ma I’d live even though things weren’t lookin’ too good for me.”

He pauses and swallows and presses his thumb to her hip.

His eyes find hers.

“They looked at me like I was headin’ to the gallows. And, y’know, we didn’t know. No one ever came back, when they were picked and marched off.” He reaches up to stroke her jaw, one arm already under her shoulders and neck. “I thought about my sisters and Stevie and my Ma and all my guys. I thought about fightin’ so they might not have to. But really I was scared as all hell, I was worried I’d piss myself. I was worried that if I didn’t fuckin’ make it through whatever was ahead someone else would have to.”

“And I thought about you,” he continues. “I wondered if you even fuckin’ remembered me. Lots a good lookin’ soldiers out there to steal ya away.” He grins at her, but his eyes are distant. “It cut me, to think you and all the others might never have a fuckin’ clue what happened to me.”

He opens his mouth to say more.

In the street below a newsboy is already calling out headlines and prices. Milk bottles rattle as a truck unloads.

Bucky loses his nerve.

“Hey,” she tilts his head toward her, “Ain’t gotta be a soldier anymore. Understand?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

She tightens her arms around him and smiles into his skin. “God ‘m I ever glad we found each other. Twice.”

“Twice,” he murmurs. “Must be true then.”

“Must be.”


	2. Darlin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bucky gets injured during the war, he meets a nurse that’s unlike anyone he’s ever met before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you've probably guessed this series will probably be a little bit out of order. Prequel to Sugar. Please let me know what you think!

Pain is shooting through Bucky’s shoulder and down his arm, when a face appears in his field of vision, hovering over him where he lies in the med tent.

“Name? Rank?” The voice is brisk.

“Sergeant James Barnes,” he says, gritting his teeth, against the pain of a bullet in his shoulder. The nurse hums and moves closer, fingers prodding over the pain in his shoulder.

“This the only place you’ve been shot, Sergeant Barnes?”

Something about the question makes tears swim in his eyes, he turns his head away, the rough material of the pillow case scratching against his cheek. It feels like razorblades digging into his skin. “I think so,” he says.

“Alight, let’s get this bullet out of you,” she doesn’t comment on his sudden emotion as her hands disappear. “It’ll hurt.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, the coolness of a pair of scissors running through the cloth of his uniform. Somethings about it makes his throat tighten further. He curls his fingers into the thin sheet beneath him.

She’s quick, digging out the bullet and disinfecting the wound with ease, efficiency. Like she’s done it a million times before and will do it a million times more.

He knows he’s not the worst she’s seen, or will see. 

When gauze is wrapped tightly around his shoulder and the gloves on her hands have been discarded, she helps him sit up. “Doc’ll be over. You’ll most likely have ta heal up before they let ya back out to the front.”

Bucky sighs, cheeks puffing out. There’s a hard ache in his shoulder that tells him he won’t be able to move his arm properly for at least a couple of weeks. He’s dizzy too, and thinks about lying back down.

He glances up at the nurse as she hands him a few pills. “For the pain,” she says, raising one brow at him. “Are you gonna hurl or are you okay to sit here?”

“’m fine,” he says, a little nauseous.

But his gaze has snagged on her, breath caught in his lungs. “You’re very beautiful,” he finds himself blurting out.

Because she is. She’s gorgeous with that funny tilt to her mouth and lilt in her voice, the shine in her amused eyes.

A grins slips over her mouth, just a little bit coy. “I bet you think so.”

“Honest,” he says. “I do. And it ain’t just cause you’re the first woman I’ve laid eyes on in weeks.”

“Take your pills, Sarge,” she says with a smile. “You’re loopy from that pain in your shoulder.”

He swallows the pills but doesn’t take his eyes off her. “Really,” he says. “I mean it. You’re stunning.”

Her eyes flick up to his, “How are you so charming after just being shot?”

“One of my many fine qualities, doll.” He pauses, wondering at her accent. “Where are you from?”

“Brooklyn,” she answers. “New York.”

A smiles pulls at his lips, “I think we’ve got more in common than you think.”

She points at him, “I know Brooklyn when I see it. You’re all city boy.” She turns away, “You should focus on healing up,” she’s mopping up the rest of his blood with gauze, scraping the rags soaked with his blood into a bowl where the bullet from his shoulder rolls and clangs against the metal lip of the tray. 

“You’re a nice distraction from the pain.”

She laughs, a genuine smile finding its way onto her face. “Yeah? Take it easy okay, Sarge? Faster you heal, faster you’ll be outta here.” She starts to turn and walk away but Bucky reaches out with his good arm and grabs her hand.

“Where can I find clothes? And a good drink?”

Her eyes flick over him, she blows out a breath, she looks a little bit flustered. “Hang around for a while. You look woozy. I’ll take ya later.”

~

Bucky sticks close to Y/N after that, hangs around the medical tent, watches her work, falls in love with the way she moves and laughs, and the way her eyes are always a little coy, like she knows him inside and outside and backwards and forwards. He has the sneaking feeling she could destroy him, and he doesn’t mind it at all.

Her fingers, in any case, are always gentle when she redresses his wound, and her mouth is always serious when he tells her something important.

In the evenings, they take walks, go to the local bar frequented by all the soldiers in the area.

This far behind the lines, things seem almost peaceful, almost normal.

If it weren’t for the troop movements, if it weren’t for the constant stream of injured and dead, things could be normal.

But they aren’t, and he curses the softness that grows in his heart for her every day. She has a dry sense of humor, doesn’t put up with his bullshit, lets him hover even when she knows she should shoo him away.

“Lookit that smile,” she says when he joins her at the bar one evening. He’s late, had been asking around for news of his squad, his guys.

She pats the back of her hand against the arm of the man she sits next to. “You ever seen one a’ these fellas smile like this one?”

Bucky smiles wider.

“That’s cause he thinks he’s got a good shot with a pretty dame,” the soldier says with a chuckle, turning away to sip at his beer.

That coy smile he’s come to love in just a couple short weeks spreads across her face. “How’s the arm?”

“Fine. I’ve got a good nurse takin’ care of it.”

“That so?” She asks, nodding at the woman behind the bar who immediately brings over a beer, rapid fire Italian falling from her lips. Y/N pushes the beer toward him, her smile a little bit soft. “Who’d you have around? Italians? Irish?”

“Irish, mostly. Though we have a mix of everybody.” He pauses, and picks at the label on the bottle between his hands. “Steve is Irish, I think that’s why he tries to fight damn near everyone.”

She laughs, “I think I’d like this Steve character.”

“Listen, doll,” Bucky says, turning to her on his stool. “You two would get on like a house on fire.”

She laughs and pats his arm gently. “Sounds like it.”

“Both of ya, too much goddamn trouble.”

Her eyes shine as she looks at him, her mouth a gentle twist as her gaze flicks over his face. “How’d they let someone so pretty over here, in the middle of all this shit? How’d they let a pretty thing like you fight in a war?”

“Hand picked me,” he says lightly. “So I could get shot and meet the prettiest girl in the world, who probably lives two blocks from me back home.”

She laughs, “Your optimism is going to get you killed, Barnes.” She turns and thwacks her hand against the other soldier’s arm again, “Hey Mike, you wanna pick up our tab?”

Mike shakes his head and says, “You owe me one.”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, Texas,” she says, standing and tilting her head to the side. “Wanna come along with me, Sarge?”

Bucky nods, leaves his beer behind, follows Y/N’s shape through the crowded bar. She turns to catch his hand as soon as they’re outside, digging in the pocket of her skirt as they walk along. “Got somethin’ for you. Organized it myself.”

“You’ve got friends everywhere don’t ya?”

“How else am I supposed to get what I want? Moppin’ up blood all day long, watchin’ our boys come back lookin’ like they’ve seen hell? I deserve a little somethin’, I think.”

She lets go of his hand as they start down the path they’ve walked nearly every night for two weeks. She stops in front of him and holds out a case of cigarettes. “The good kind.”

Bucky takes the metal case from her and examines them, nodding. “Where’d ya-,”

“C’mon, kid, that ruins all the fun.”

He chuckles at her, at the way she calls him kid. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“We gonna smoke ‘em or what, sugar?”

Bucky’s head snaps up, eyes darting to hers from the precious cigarettes. She raises a brow at him, fist on her hip. “Sure,” he says, throat dry.

She produces a book of matches, strikes one and holds it to the cigarette dangling between his lips. He inhales as he watches her light her own, tossing away the used match before taking his hand again.

Y/N had started holding his hand a few days ago. He’s not exactly sure what it means, but he doesn’t mind.

She lets him kiss her all the time, hard and passionate, when she was alone and they were in danger of being caught at any moment. She lets him push her against the side of a senior officer’s desk and kiss her, his thigh between her legs. She’s always cool as a cucumber, though, when they have to jump apart at a moment’s notice, her eyes docile and aloof, not a hair out of place. Bucky, on the other hand, is sure he looks every bit the guilty man, checks flushed, lips swollen, hair mussed.

But that’s beside the point.

Holding hands? That’s something else, something that almost feels like more. Or, maybe, he’s just a goddamn lovesick idiot for Y/N.

She gestures at the field in front of them with her cigarette, “When it gets cold, that’s when everything’ll really go to hell.”

He nods and asks, “You been through a winter here yet?”

“Not yet.”

“How much longer you think we got?”

“’Til the end? Ah, years probably.” She blows out some smoke. “Things’ll get worse before they get better. And it sounds like everybody really wants their future to win. Ideologies, y’know, bullshit.”

“What’re you doin’ here, Y/N?”

Y/N knows everything there is to know about the war, Bucky has found. She keeps information from soldiers returning from the front, is cozy with the senior leaders and the locals alike. She reads anything she can get her hands on about the war. She talks about the winter often and with worry, about how the Nazis weapons had frozen and jammed during that long first Russian winter.

She shrugs, “Didn’t seem right to sit at home. Old man died over here in some hole in the ground before I was even born.”

He sighs, boots scuffing along the dirt path. He gets hell from the guys, for being so close to Y/N. But its all in good nature, and he senses a little jealousy besides. “I don’t know if I can do this for years.”

She cocks her head to the side, “Why are you here?”

“Number came up. Didn’t have much of a choice.”

She nods, squeezes his fingers as he smiles at her. “A damn shame. I gotta say, Barnes, that’s a damn shame.” She shakes her head, like it pains her to know that he’s here and sure to fight again and that it isn’t his choice. “Someone that smiles like that,” she tosses her cigarette away and pokes the edge of his smile, “shouldn’t be in a war.”

“You soft for me or somethin’, Y/N?” He teases, smiling, not breaking his gaze from hers as he takes one last drag on his cigarette.

She just nods, eyes hooded as she looks at him.

They walk in silence for a while, listening to the buzz of insects in the grass and the distant artillery fire.

When they’re far enough away from prying eyes, and the tree line has swallowed them whole, Bucky wraps his good arm around her hips and tugs her close. “We got right now though, don’t we, Y/N?”

She leans close to him, their noses almost touching. She smells like lavender and smoke and alcohol. It’s intoxicating, and he finds himself melting in the palm of her hand. “We do. Me and you, Bucky.”

“Damn tomorrow.”

“Damn it straight to hell.”

“I won’t die.”

“There’s that optimism again.”

“You’re worried I will.”

She looks shocked and pulls back, as though she’s not sure how they’ve come to be so close, as though she’s not sure how she’s come to care about him. “I am.” Y/N swallows and pulls a bit farther away. “I don’t usually concern myself with the fate of others. But I’m worried about you, James.”

“I’ll meet ya back in Brooklyn, I’ll take ya dancin’, court you proper.”

“Is that what you’re doin’, Barnes? Courting me?”

“Not properly,” he answers. “But this is the best we got.”

She laughs, it’s giddy. “Are you sweet on me, Barnes?”

“Yeah, dahlin’, I suppose I am,” he admits, stopping her, pulling her close. Her eyes are wide and bright and just a little bit surprised. This is something he’s good at, making a lady feel special. And he desperately wants her to feel special. “Never felt this way about a dame before.”

“Maybe it’s the war,” she answers but her mouth twists into a mischievous smirk, she steps close, so they’re chest to chest.

And now he’s startled, staring into her eyes as she brings her hand up to rest against his neck, her thumb pressing against his throat. Bucky feels a little bit small under her intense gaze, under her hand.

It’s not a bad feeling. A bit strange, but not bad. No one has ever handled him that way before.

“Lemme kiss you, Y/N.”

She hums and leans closer, her nose brushing gently against his. “Now what happened to that charm, Barnes?” She drawls.

Her hand moves to his jaw, holding him in place, forces him to hold her gaze. Bucky tightens his arms around her, feels a thrill run up his spine.

“I don’t know,” he answers, watching her eyes flick to his lips. “I ain’t never met a woman like you. You fluster me.”

She smiles again, that sly smile he’s come to adore. “Kiss me.”

Bucky immediately slants his mouth over hers, pressing hungry kisses against her lips.

He hasn’t kissed anyone since before he shipped out, since that last night when he got a goodbye kiss from someone he didn’t really care about. After kissing Y/N, he doesn’t really want to kiss anyone else ever again. 

Kissing Y/N is different. It feels different and good. Her tongue swipes against his bottom lip and Bucky easily opens his mouth to her, lets her lead the kiss in a way he can’t remembering having done before, with anyone.

She presses close to him, Bucky’s arms circling her waist. His wounded shoulder aches but he can’t be bothered to care. Not with her lips against his and her hands against his shoulders, raking down his back.

Y/N guides them through the kiss, her mouth almost aggressive against his. He likes it. He loves it. He wants her to tell him what to do.

Y/N pulls away from him with a small gasp, leans her forehead against his. “God,” she murmurs, inhaling deeply. “God, let me hide you away, let me hide you away from the war.”

Her hands rake through his hair, slip down to his neck. She laughs, rubs her hands along his ribs softly. “Let me keep you safe.”

“I’d let you if I could.”

He’s still breathless.

She’s smiling again, lips in that strange, sly twist again. She kisses him again instead of answering, her lips prying against his, wanting.

Heat burns in his belly, and he fists his hands in her skirt.

Y/N hums and pulls away, her eyes searching his. A flash of embarrassment, uncertainty darts through her eyes before she takes his hand and pulls him after her with a grin.

“Let me show you somethin’, Bucky,” she says.

He follows her, not really caring where she’s leading them. His grin stretches when he sees the old barn she’s leading them towards.

She turns to him and cocks her head to the side. “Think you’re about to get lucky, sugar?”

Bucky stutters, trips over his words as she pulls him inside, into the dimness and the smell of hay. It’s warm. He wants to kiss her again. “God, I fuckin’ hope so, doll.”

She kisses him, laughing a little bit as he pulls her close, stopping the way her hands are working on his pants. He cradles her back, presses her close, her body soft against his.

“You sure, honey?” He asks, panting against her lips.

“I like you,” she says, as though that settles it. “And I trust you.” Her hand slips down to palm him though his trousers. “And we both might be dead before this thing it over. I might never see you again, once you get your orders.”

Her fingers work his pants open, her fingers brushing against his cock.

Bucky groans low under his breath, his fingers digging into his hips, kissing her harder, passion working into his blood.

She takes her hand away from his straining cock to curl her fingers in the collar of his shirt. “Bucky, baby, ya gotta do somethin’ for me, darlin’.”

“Anything.”

“You gotta warn me,” she says, jerking him close in a clash of teeth and lips. “Tell me if you hear someone coming. Other people know about this place.” She sinks to her knees on the hay that covers the floor, looks up at him with wide eyes. “You can do that for me, can’t ya?”

He groans, presses his thumb to the center of her bottom lip. “Yeah, dahlin’. I can do that.”

“Good,” she says, nuzzling her nose against his thigh. “Good. And don’t mess up my hair.”

He shivers, and she puts one hand on his thigh, steadying herself. “Y/N,” he whispers. He hasn’t been nervous with a girl since his first time. He’s thinking he should tell her that she doesn’t have to, even if he desperately wants to feel the softness of her lips around him.

Before he can speak she’s pulled his cock from his trousers and licked a broad stripe from base to tip.

His whole body feels like its seized when she wraps her lips around the head and hollows her cheeks. She hums, sounding satisfied, tongue flicking against his skin.

She presses one hand up his abdomen, under his shirt, fingers digging into his skin. “Fuck,” he whispers, her hooded eyes meeting his as she takes more of him into her mouth, as much as she can manage.

He buries his hands in her loose hair, Y/N gagging slightly around him, tongue curling around him, swiping up.

His hips buck and she pushes against his thighs, pulling back. “Be patient for me,” she says. “C’mon, sugar, let me make you feel good. Can you be good for me?”

“Goddamn, Y/N,” he whispers. “Fuck.” He likes when she talks to him like that. He likes feeling like he’s not in control.

“Is that a yes or a no, honey?” She asks, her fingers working up a smooth rhythm, her tongue flicking out to catch the precum gathering at the tip of his cock.

A moan slips past his lips, her words going right to his cock. “Yes,” he says, voice strained. “Yes, yes.”

“That’s my good boy,” she murmurs, replacing her hand with her mouth, taking him deep.

He grips her hair tight, silence surrounding them but for the wet sounds of her mouth. It’s a sloppy, wet sound and he thinks he could get off on that alone if he didn’t already know the feeling of her mouth around him, of the way her tongue can flick and lick and trace.

She gags around him again and pulls back to suckle gently at the head, watery eyes meeting his. “Dahlin’,” he moans, hands tight in her hair, watching his cock disappear back inside her heavenly mouth. She hums around him when he hits the back of her throat, the vibrations making him curse and this time when his hips thrust forward she doesn’t stop him.

Her hands go to his thighs, nails digging into his trousers he as fucks her mouth. Y/N chokes around him but doesn’t stop him, filthy wet sounds dripping from her lips. Her hand disappears inside his shirt again, fingers against the warm skin of his back.

When she drags her hand to his hip and forces him to stop, their eyes meet. Hers are watery and large, she licks her lips and looks at him with hunger. “Doin’ so good, Buck,” she murmurs. “So good for me.”

She presses her cheek to his thigh, strokes his cock slowly, looks at him with that smirk, the edges of her lips wet. “Do you want to cum?” She asks, pink darting out to taste his skin.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yes.”

He’s trembling, on the edge of something heartbreaking. She hums, wraps her lips around him once again and bobs her head, building up a rhythm that has him seeing stars.

Bucky grips her hair, tries to warn her that he’s going to cum, but spills into her mouth anyways. He faintly registers a gagging noise but all he can focus on is the mouth around his cock still sucking. He tightens his grip on her hair and moves her head along his length, moaning tightly, cursing.

She doesn’t pull away until he’s soft in her mouth, his cock clean.

Y/N falls back from kneeling to sitting on her calves. She looks up at him, her mouth empty, smacking her lips.

She swallowed. His stomach tightens again but he tucks his cock back in his pants and holds out a hand to her.

Y/N lets him pull her up from the floor but she doesn’t look at him, doesn’t meet his eyes. He wraps his good arm around her and pulls her flush against him, pressing his lips against hers. She kisses him back, making a small sound of surprise.

She tastes like him. It makes him cradle her closer to him.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” he says.

A giggle passes her lips, sounding almost tentative. “I think you’re too charming for your own good.”

“Goddamn doll face,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against hers. “The mouth on you.”

She pulls back, steps away from his arms. She looks flustered, embarrassed, and leans down to brush out the invisible wrinkles from her skirt. Even though he had pulled her hair and she had been on her knees in a barn in the middle of nowhere, she still doesn’t have a hair out of place.

She’s perfect, Bucky realizes and silently curses the world for making them meet this way, in the middle of a war. If he had met her in Brooklyn, it would have been a short courtship, a short engagement.

“I hope you won’t…think badly of me, because of this.”

Bucky’s gaze snaps to hers, “What are you talking about?”

She swallows, “I mean…not exactly proper is it? I like you, Barnes. I wouldn’t normally care, but I like you.”

“’m I the only one you like?” He asks, cheeky grin on his lips.

“Stupid,” she accuses, but steps back into his arms. “But I wish you were the only one I’ve ever liked.”

Her hand comes to rest on the back of his neck, possessive of him in a way no one else has ever been. He doesn’t care, and ducks his head, just to be a bit closer to her. “You’re magic, dahlin’. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” she says. “You’re the only one I like, sugar.” Her thumb strokes the back of his neck, makes him shiver and press his forehead to hers.

“Thank God,” he says, smiling widely at her.

She takes his chin in her hand and rubs her nose against his. “Stupid,” she says again.

When they step back outside, into the fading evening light, Y/N fixes his hair, his shirt. He offers his arm to her, like a gentleman, and she giggles.

They pass another couple on their way back to the town and Y/N winks at him.


	3. Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky’s ma thinks its time for him to get married. Bucky isn’t so sure. AU in which Bucky survives the war.

The sun is already setting behind the skyline when Bucky finally starts his long walk home from the docks. The comfortingly familiar streets and buildings of Brooklyn are painted in shades of butter yellow and burnt orange, the horizon already starting to darken to the blue and purple of evening.

His shoulder is aching again but he smiles at his neighbors when he finally nears his apartment building, swinging the pail in his hand which had earlier contained his lunch.

He takes the stairs two at a time, reaching his apartment in record time, and digs for his keys in his pocket, when he hears movement inside.

Bucky abandons the search for his keys and reaches for the doorknob instead. The door swings open under his light touch, revealing a sun soaked living room. The windows are yawned open to the dying light and cooling breeze, curtains fluttering gently, sunshine flickering over the hardwood in vibrant streaks. He shuts the front door behind him and walks to the kitchen, a smile already twitching on his lips.

Y/N is there, calmly slicing potatoes at the sink, just like he was hoping she’d be.

She glances back at him and smiles, “Your ma called.”

“She need somethin’?” He asks, setting his lunch pail on the counter before walking to lean next to her place at the sink.

Y/N smiles, touches his cheek with wet fingers, her eyes soft and dark, “Wants to know when we’re comin’ over for dinner. Your sisters are antsy ta see ya.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She pauses, and then says, “And Becca wants to know when we’re gettin’ married.”

Bucky laughs, head tilted back, throat filled with full laughter as Y/N’s hands dive back into the water filled sink for another potato. She peels it carefully, fingers delicate and skillful with the small knife. “What’s Bex so concerned for?”

“Weddings are exciting, Bucky Barnes,” Y/N says simply. “And I’d make a great sister-in-law.”

He chuckles, “You would. You’re a good woman, dahlin’.”

“You’d know best of all wouldn’t ya?”

“Sure would. What’re ya makin’, doll?”

“Clatite cu cartofi,” she says in perfect Romanian, surprising Bucky. “What?” She asks, raising her shoulders in a tiny, innocent shrug, a knowing, proud smile playing around her lips. “Your ma taught me.”

Bucky sighs, leans his forehead against her shoulder, “You’re a goddamn angel, you know that?”

She laughs, moves away from him to begin grating the potatoes, a tedious process with the old rusted grater. The muscles in her shoulders and arms strain as she wrestles with making the thing cooperate with her. Bucky thinks she’s never looked better though, muscles working, beads of sweat on her forehead in the warm apartment. Even so, her clothes are perfect, if a little worn, and there isn’t a hair out of place on her head. “Why don’t you go clean up, James? You look like you had a hard day.”

“My shoulder hurts,” he admits. “It’s been achin’ all day.”

She doesn’t look up, moving the grated potato onto a cheesecloth to squeeze out the moisture. “Didn’t sleep either.”

“It was too hot to sleep,” he comments absently, still watching her, mesmerized by the way she moves just as he always has been. Nightmare plague him, keep him awake, make him sweat through the sheets that they both dutifully change every morning without comment or fanfare, all practicality. She knows he doesn’t want to talk about it, not yet.

He doesn’t ask how she knows about him not sleeping, only nods at her turned back and smiles when she glances over her shoulder at him. “See somethin’ you like, kid?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“And so what if I do, Y/N?”

She smirks and dumps the potato into a bowl, cracking a egg over the mixture. She adds salt and pepper and flour, just like his ma always does, without measuring anything, looking like she’s done it a thousand times before.

“Why don’t you come find out?” She murmurs, so quiet Bucky almost misses it.

Bucky crosses the kitchen, grabs her hands just as they’re about to sink into the gooey mixture. He wraps his fingers around her wrists and holds her hands against his chest. “I missed you today, doll face.”

“Yeah?” She asks, the corners of her mouth pulling up as he pulls her closer, hands pressing down her arms to curl around her waist. “I didn’t think about you all that much.”

He laughs and nuzzles his nose against her cheek. “And you look goddamn beautiful standing here.” Bucky sweeps his hands across her back and down to her ass.

Y/N laughs in his ear when he squeezes her ass gently. She pulls back and pats his cheek, “You remember when we found each other in that corner grocery? You said my name and my soul shot back to Italy. You were so sweet to me, like we hadn’t already done every terrible thing people can do together. You blushed and asked me to get an ice cream with you. You didn’t have two pennies to rub together and still you asked.”

He’s blushing now, can feel the heat high in his cheeks. But Y/N doesn’t mention it, only reaches up and tugs on a bit of his hair affectionately. “Your mother is getting impatient with you,” she says. “First thing she does is look at my hand when I walk in.”

“And what about you, dahlin’?” He asks as she presses her thumb to the center of his chin, wriggling against the divot there. “You gettin’ impatient with me?”

“Never,” she murmurs. “I’ll wait. For you, I will. I’m in no hurry, though if I get called an old croon, I make no promises about what might happen.”

He sighs against her, shivers when her fingers curl around the back of his neck. “You give me everything I need, anyhow, Barnes,” she says when he doesn’t laugh. “Where else’ll I go and find a man like you?”

Bucky isn’t really sure what she means by that and he isn’t sure that he should ask either. He loves Y/N and he’s sure she could do better, but even if he searched for a thousand years he’d never find anyone quite like Y/N.

“She just wants grandkids ya know,” Bucky says instead, running his hands up and down her back, tentatively over the curve of her ass. His fingers trip down her thigh, squeezing gently as he encourages her to lift her leg and hitch it over his hip.

Her body is warm against his, her eyes wondering. Bucky presses her back into the counter, their bodies fitted snugly together. He bows his head against her shoulder, feels the twitch of her fingers in his hair as she combs through the short strands. “I think she wants you to be happy.”

“She wants her son back,” Bucky says. “And he ain’t comin’ home.”

“You did,” Y/N says, adamant about it, her fingers tightening in his hair, tugging his head back, tilting it so he has to meet her eyes. “You came home and you brought a girl with you. Your ma wants ya to be happy. She knows you’re different but she’s glad she’s got her boy back. You’re her only son, honey.”

He nods, lets himself believe in the truth of her words. Bucky glances away from her, at the uncooked dinner on the counter and back at her. “Dinner can wait, can’t it doll?”

He doesn’t want to talk about what his mother wants anymore. He wants to be a good son, and he wants to marry Y/N, but he wants to do it in his own time. They aren’t old yet, and he’ll be damned if he asks Y/N when he think her hand might be forced, by too recent memories of what he was like before he suffered at the hands of Hydra, before he was a prisoner of war, tortured. He doesn’t want her to say yes out of guilt either. He wants to give her enough time to decide on him, because he’s already decided on her. 

She hums under her breath, moves her hips against his. “Long day? Need to relax?” She murmurs, voice dark.

“Without you? Every day is long.”

She nods and Bucky grips her hips hard, stilling her so he can press closer to her, his hard cock against the warmth of her body. She lets him, her breath a needy pant in his ear. Bucky rucks up her skirt, and presses his fingers against her cunt. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

“You keep tellin’ me that and I just might believe it Barnes,” she says, ever cheeky. She flattens one hand against his chest and pushes him back a step, lowering her leg from his hip. Her eyes rake over him, down to the straining bulge in his trousers.

He feels himself go a little hot at her eyes on him like that. “Honey,” she coos. “Why don’t you go shut the blinds and I’ll put this stuff in the icebox? Meet me in the bedroom.”

He nods, kisses her hand, the inside of her wrist before he turns and goes to work on the blinds, first in the living room and then in the bedroom.

Bucky works off his shoes first, carefully lining them up at the foot of the bed, before he slouches out of his suspenders and begins work on his button up work shirt.

“Sometimes,” says a voice in the doorway. “I think you don’t know just exactly how handsome you are.”

Y/N is unbuttoning her own blouse, revealing inch after inch of beautifully soft skin. Bucky swallows and falters on the buttons. She laughs, moves forward until she’s right in front of him and crawling into his lap, straddling his waist.

She links her fingers together behind his neck, and Bucky rests his forehead against her chest. Her fingers work through his hair from his neck up to the top of his head as his hands find her thighs. He skates his hands along her stockings, unclipping her garter belt.

She rocks her hips against his, teasing him gently with barely there nips against his neck, mouth warm against his skin.

He lets her work him out of his shirt, lets her ghost her fingers over his scars. “I have a hard time lookin’ at ‘em,” he says, in response to her fingers against the pink raised flesh and her question. “So I can’t imagine what it’s like for you to look at ‘em. They ain’t pretty.”

“I think they are.” She pauses, and then asks, “What do you see when you look at them?”

He swallows. “I wonder what would have happened if I fell. I would have died, wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” she says, and he knows she’s think about what’s in his blood, what makes him stronger and faster by far than other men. “Surely, the Commandos would have found you, either way.”

He nods, decides there’s no reason to keep thinking about it. “What do you see when you look at them?” Her fingers are still stroking the scars.

“You know it’s strange,” she says, her brow furrowed. “I always think about that first bullet. This charming soldier bleeding all over everything and telling me he thinks I’m beautiful.” She meets his eyes, “And then you went through hell and back and you still told me I was beautiful. You looked for me.”

Bucky pulls her close, nuzzles his nose against her neck. “Ain’t you fuckin’ sappy tonight?”

She laughs, “Jackass.”

“Let me fuck you, beautiful,” he begs. “And then I’ll finish up dinner for you and feed you.”

Y/N doesn’t answer for a moment, instead peppering kisses over his face and neck, small affectionate kisses that makes his blood warm. She nods against him, and Bucky wastes no time in standing with her in his arms, to turn and lie her on the bed.

She watches him undress with her index finger between her teeth and a sultry look in her eyes, deeply appreciative. It makes him feel good, to be look at like that by Y/N.

She shimmies out of her own clothes and clutches at him with tender fingers when he gives himself to her.

Her fingers brush against his jaw and his neck. Her mouth is soft against his, reassuring in a way no other kiss from any other person ever has been. She doesn’t keep her eyes closed when he pulls back, looks back at him instead with a burning love clenched in her teeth.

Their bedroom is warm and close, summer heat invading every inch of the apartment. She’s close, her skin is damp and hot against his.

She opens easily to him, her knees hitching around his hips. His lips never leave hers, and kissing her feels like flying, every time he does it feels important.

Y/N’s hand curls around his cock and guides him to her entrance. She groans when he’s fully seated within her warm, wet walls. He thrusts slowly, presses his fingers through hers and holds them by her head. She doesn’t regain control, only moves her hips with his and lets him have free rage at mouthing over her neck and lips and shoulders and breasts.

“Bucky,” she murmurs, her pussy squeezing him as she comes around him. It takes everything in him not to come in her in that moment. Not with her looking like that, eyes rolled, chest heaving, mouth open, brows scrunched. “Bucky.”

“Say my name, sugar,” he says, sucking one nipple into his mouth, humming when she arches into his mouth with a choked off moan.

“James,” she purrs, turning her head to press a kiss to his forearm. Her teeth dig into his flesh a little, eyes flashing mischievously to his. Bucky rolls them over and gives her thigh a gentle pat. “Want me to finish you off, Sarge?”

His eyes roll back, her hips already moving against his. “That mouth,” he sighs.

She laughs and leans down to kiss him, swallowing and quieting the moans that threaten to fall past his lips. He’s half tempted not to give a damn what his neighbors think anymore. “Tell me when you’re close, sugar,” she murmurs.

He nods against her mouth, lets her kiss him, devour him, until he pulls back to give a desperate warning.

Y/N pulls away and strokes him slowly. Her lips find his again when he comes, and she giggles.

Silence settles over the warm room, both their eyes starting to droop, when Bucky remembers his promise. “Gotta make ya dinner,” he says sitting up. “I know how to make those damn things. I’ve watched ma make ‘em a thousand times. D’ya know,” he rambles, “I tried to make ‘em in the field once with these rotten fucking potatoes I found. Certainly no eggs or salt or flour. I cut ‘em up and squashed ‘em together and cooked them on a shitty little fire. And…I cried when I tasted it. It didn’t taste like ma’s but…it was something close to home.”

She touches his arm. “I hope these are better, honey.”

Bucky isn’t sure what he’s talking about anymore and so he just kisses her and makes his way to the bathroom.

~

Bucky is still washing the dishes when Y/N finally finishes off the last potato pancake. She licks the salt off of her fingers before standing and crossing the room to wrap her arms around Bucky’s middle. “Honey,” she coos. “You’ll make those for me every day won’t you?”

“If you asked,” he turns his head, “I would. Just for you.”

She nods against his back before tugging on his arm, “C’mon, let’s smoke.”

And because dishes can wait, and in the grand scheme of things don’t matter that much, he nods back and takes her hand. They climb out onto the old fire escape and smoke their way through a whole pack in silence.

There’s nothing better than spending a night with Y/N on the fire escape.

Just like there was nothing better than spending a night chatting with her in the nurses tent.

He wonders how much he’s changed to her. But he suspects it doesn’t matter, that in her heart of hearts, she knows him, better and deeper than anyone else ever will.

The hot summer night breeze ruffles her hair as she turns to him and Bucky resolves to find some way to buy her a ring. Maybe he could ask his ma for his grandmother’s ring.

Y/N turns to him, her eyes are contemplative. “You would have survived.”

“What?” He asks, flicking away his cigarette, just a little bit startled.

“If you fell. You would have survived.”

He pulls out another cigarette and Y/N reaches inside the window to bring out a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses. Bucky lights the smoke and watches her pour. He blows the smoke up, away from Y/N, examines his unlaced boots and asks, “How d’ya figure?”

She shrugs, “God himself couldn’t knock the light out of your soul. You’re unshakable and that’s the only way I know how to explain it.”

She goes silent and Bucky takes her hand.

He doesn’t know if he believes in God anymore, but he hopes she’s right anyways.

In another universe, in another time, maybe he never knew her at all.


End file.
